


Gods and Monsters

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Persona 4, Saiyuki Gaiden, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Community: avengerkink, Gen, Gods, Introspection, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has seen a few strange things whilst travelling the globe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tulips

**Author's Note:**

> From the avengerkink meme for the prompt: Unbeknownst to Bruce, he's met a few gods/demigods during his travels. Each chapter is a separate meeting.

He knows that Tony had been joking when he'd asked if he'd tried weed to keep his temper in check. Probably joking. Bruce is at least 70% sure that he was joking although after he spends a few more days with him he revises that number to an uncertain 50 and gives up trying to guess.

It's true anyway. He'd tried whatever he could find and he's long since past any kind of shame when it comes to finding a solution for his... problem.

He'd been in Amsterdam, a calculated risk of a stopover before he caught a flight to Nepal. The press of the city had made him nervous, but the little guest house on the outskirts had been relaxed and welcoming and the owner seemed content to leave him to himself.

"As long as you pay at the end, what you do's none of my business," the man had said with a shrug, tapping out his long-stemmed pipe and then clenching it between his teeth. The pipe seemed a bit incongruous; the owner, William he'd called himself, was young, late twenties at most, with a shock of spiked blond hair and a pipe was an old man's preserve, but it suited him in some indefinable way.

Bruce didn't pry. 

There was a tulip field beyond the canal at the back of the house, red blooms and green stems like a carpet. Nature tamed and he couldn't decide whether it was soothing or terrifying and tried not to pay the thought any attention. 

William found him on the back decking later that night, and perched next to him, stretching long legs out. The smoke from his pipe was cloying and sweet, definitely not tobacco. They sat in silence until William turned, offering him a blunt. "More fun smoking with company," he said, a flicker of a smile on the corner of his lips.

Bruce blinked, taking the joint and rolling it between his fingers. "You don't seem to care," he pointed out with a wry smile of his own. He hadn't seen William without the pipe since arriving.

"For you, not me," William said with a shrug, offering him a light.

"Thanks," Bruce said dryly wondering just how bad he looked that the reticent guesthouse owner had decided he needed company.

The first drag made him choke, his eyes water because it wasn't much like cigarettes and clung to his tongue. He dug his palms into his hand though, and forced another, like maybe this would be the magic bullet; find salvation in a joint in Amsterdam like a million and more tourists a year.

William chuckled softly, but it was a far-away sound. His gaze was fixed on the tulips. 

"They're beautiful," Bruce said when he can breathe without gasping. It was true.

"Heh. They're special," William said. "A gift."

"Oh?" Bruce asked, focusing on anything apart from the discomfort in his belly.

"For old allies," William said. "Liberation."

He thought he'd heard this story, but Bruce frowned as he tried to remember it. "For Canada, right?"

"You know your history."

"It's not exactly hidden knowledge," Bruce replied.

"It's easily forgotten knowledge," William said with a bitter twist to his lips that could rival one of Bruce's in his more self-disparaging moments. "The evil that men do oft lives on, while the good is interred with their bones." He laughs. "Something like that anyway. Shakespeare's more England's province than mine. Understandably. The bard was one of his."

It made perfect sense there, out on the deck with the drug working it's way through him (quickly, too quickly).

The words didn't really come back to him until the next day on a train leaving Berlin, leaving an odd itch at the back of his mind until he fell asleep to dreams of stars and tulips and eyes too old to be human.


	2. Sage

"Hey! A drink here!"

Bruce's shoulders hunch as he feels someone settle down onto the stool next to him and stared down at his drink (tea actually, but in a glass so he doesn't stick out too much). The man leans forward against the bar, tapping his fingers impatiently, humming a little beneath his breath.

The bar, a dive really, located on a dirt track just outside of a small town in central China, is nearly empty, and someone has to choose to set up next to him? 

The drink arrives and the man turns to him, grinning. "You're not from around here, are you?" he says as he takes a swig.

Bruce glances up, eyeing him through the shaggy fall of his hair. He has a chakra on his forehead but he's like no holy man that Bruce has ever seen. Don't they tend to not spend time in seedy bars drinking something that smells more ethanol than anything genuinely drinkable?

Bruce shrugs one shoulder, offering a weak smile. "I guess I stick out, huh?"

Not that the other man is inconspicuous in his long black coat, skull pendant on his chest.

"A bit," the man says with amusement, sticking out his hand. "Kenren."

Bruce stares for a moment and then figures what the hell, it'll probably take more to extricate himself from a conversation than it will be to follow it through. "Bruce Banner."

"What brings you here?" Kenren asks, taking another gulp of his drink and showing no sign of it affecting him. "You're a long way from Chang'an."

That earns him a stare because... Bruce shakes his head. "Don't you mean Xi'an?" he asks and it doesn't make it better because people normally say Shanghai, Beijing, places he's been strictly avoiding.

Kenren looks confused for a moment, then smiles lopsidedly, but the faraway look in his eyes never leaves. "Perhaps. I'm a bit outdated. I've been away for a long time."

Kenren buys them both a drink and Bruce doesn't point out that It's been Xi'an for six hundred years.

He's not bad company, though he gets raucous the more he drinks which makes Bruce wish that there was a table to put between them. Maybe a brick wall. They both provide about the same amount of protection from... yeah. Turns out the man is a storyteller though, in a convoluted, drunken way. Tales of old gods and spirits.

"And then Goku, the monkey," he says, his eyes full of wild laughter, "the kid's diadem broke. No warning. I've never seen something so fierce, like all the rage in the world was coming out of him."

It makes Bruce shudder to hear but Kenren slips into a tale of another kind, something about an Eastern Army and the wife of it's commander. He puts himself into each tale but the stories are entertaining at least. Old stories weaved together into something even more fantastical.

It's late, much later than Bruce had intended to stay, when Kenren, staggers to his feet. "Time to go. The Marshall'll be... probably crushed by an avalanche of books now I think about it," he says with a grimance.

He claps Bruce on the shoulder, meeting his gaze squarely and fearlessly. It's a novel feeling. "There's a shrine to the monkey 'round here, you know," he says. "You might visit it." There's something in his voice that makes Bruce tense up. He stares down at the table, taking a steadying breath but when he looks up again, Kenren is gone and the tab is paid, but no-one recalls seeing the dark haired man all night.

 

There is a shrine, it turns out, along three miles of dirt track and halfway up a mountain. It's half rubble, but the statue is still there in an alcove, and the air is clear and fresh, not a person in sight.

Bruce drops a few coins into the dish at the Monkey King's feet and keeps walking.


	3. Shroud

The fog is closing in as Bruce reaches the gas station. He doesn't normally drive, but there's no trains that head into the mountains and after a week in Japan he needs all the seclusion he can get. He climbs out and nods to the young male attendant who smiles as he moves to fill up the rental car.

"On holiday, sir?"

Bruce smiles vaguely, shoving his hands into his pockets. The fog is chilly, seeping down the back of his neck uncomfortably. It feels ominous in a way that he can't quite define. He hates to say that something gives him the creeps; it's so unscientific, but that's the only way he can describe it.

"Just travelling. Looking for some peace and quiet."

The attendant returns the smile. "You might like it in Inaba," he says. "It's a quiet town."

Bruce laughs, shaking his head. "Still a bit too crowded for me," he says, hoping that he doesn't have to elaborate.

The attendant finishes filling up the car and Bruce pays with a wad of yen. Tony had offered him a card but he hadn't felt comfortable having that kind of trail leading to him. 

"Do you know if the fog will clear soon?" he asks, peering out at the dim streets. It seems to have become thicker as he's waited and he doesn't relish the drive into the mountains if it's going to be like this the whole way.

The attendant peers out. "The fog comes and goes," he says. "It might stay longer though, depending." There's a smirk in his voice, a note that crawls uncomfortably up Bruce's spine.

"Depending on what?"

The attendant pulls his cap down further over his face and answers only with a smile.

\----------

Bruce passes a group of teenagers when he stops in the centre of town to buy some food. They glance at him curiously; not many foreigners around, he supposes, but quickly turn back to their hushed but intent conversation. It's probably idle teenage chatter, but for some reason it reminds him of some of the strategy meetings the Avengers have had and it unnerves him.

He eats his noodles quickly, pays for them and leaves, but not before he catches the eye of one of the boys, the one with silver hair. He stares for a moment, something catching and twisting in the back of his mind and he doesn't stop to think about it until he's back in the car and driving out of town.

That boy... something about him had been familiar. The way that he smelled like Thor, and felt like Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fool Arcana, in Persona 4, is the arcana for the Investigation team (one of the compulsory arcana) and it's ultimate persona is Loki. Souji's first persona is Izanagi, who uses lightning as his main weapon.


End file.
